THE SECRET SEA: EXPANDED EDITION

10

Steven leads me down to the basement as soon as we get back to the house. He's so eager to show me his toys that I have trouble saying no. There's no sign of Eve.

"Eve is meeting with her publisher," says Steven, as if he's reading my mind. "Want a beer? I got a fridge down here," he says, turning on the light.

"Sure, I'll have—" my words are cut short by the sight of a sprawling landscape. A miniature canyon formed in paper-mâché and plaster rests on a thin slab of ply-board atop a pair of sawhorses. The surrounding hills are dotted with plastic trees, spreading across a fake plateau until they reach the edge of a compact village. A horde of plastic people are frozen in provincial toil, eternally manning vegetable stands or directing traffic or baking bread. Tracks twist through tunnels and zip around mountain passes in a long, complex loop.

"Wow Steven, this is incredible," I finally eek out.

Steven grins, looking satisfied as he pops the cap off an IPA and hands it to me. "Thanks, man. I've been working on this for a year or so. I admit, it's kind of getting out of hand." He flips a switch and a black train engine zips out of a tunnel, burping little clouds of oil smoke from its stovepipe. It's lugging a mismatch of train cars behind it: livestock cars packed with plastic cows, shipping containers graced with fake brand names, cylindrical oil cars and generic boxcars covered in minuscule graffiti...all tailed by an anachronistic red caboose. The train toots a shrill whistle.

I lean down and marvel at the details. "How did you find time to make all this?" I ask.

Steven shrugs. "I usually work on the Canyon Line while Eve writes in the evenings. It keeps me occupied, which keeps me from interrupting her out of sheer boredom." He pulls something out of his bag from the hobby shop. "Check it out: fat people." He hands me a cardboard package, and indeed, the words "Fat People" are printed in red, white and blue at the top of the card. An assortment of plump characters stare out from behind the package's plastic bubble, waiting to take their place in Steven's time-locked landscape. I can't help but laugh at how literal it all is.

"What's so funny?" asks Steven.

"It's not, I'm just...twelve dollars?" I balk, looking at the price tag stuck to the Fat People package.

Steven snatches the toy out of my hand and puts it on a high shelf. "Yeah, well, specialty items aren't cheap. Once I repaint them, they'll look a lot better. They'll fill out the village nicely."

"Fill it out indeed," I say with a smile. "Seriously though, this is great. I've never seen model trains zipping around a canyon. I like the little lacquered river down there with the white caps."

"Yeah, I'm working on some kayakers to go under the bridge."

"There's a police and fire station, a clinic, a market, a hardware store, a farm...even a movie theater," I marvel, "you've built your own little society."

Steven suddenly looks serious. He takes a swig of beer then plops it down next to the grocery store. "You know, as complex and solid as society seems, it really isn't. Life's fragile—anyone with an excess of will can take control."

"Excuse me?" I say, confused by the sudden barometric shift in our conversation.